Atelier
by Albion19
Summary: Jefferson forces Emma to stay in his house until she makes a hat that works. A what if scenario. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**_a.n_**

_So I've had this idea since Jefferson said: "You and your friend are not leaving here until you make my hat! Until you get it to work."_

_The thought of Emma being forced to stay in that huge house making useless hat after another intrigued me. Would she eventually succeed? Would they grow close or not? I will explore that in this story, so warnings for forced imprisonment and slight creepiness._

_For the purpose of this story I've decided to drop Mary Margaret from it. She's not wanted by the police or in trouble but living like normal. Everything that happened between Emma and Jefferson is canon baring MM and obviously Jefferson getting kicked out the window._

_The story is inspired by The Collector by John Fowles, which is an awesome book fyi. Hope you enjoy what follows._

* * *

Her hand grabbed onto the door frame, the tendons under the skin taut but with a forceful tug her fingers lost their grip. Arm hooked around her waist I threw her into the room and then slammed the door closed before she could escape. My head was bleeding, I could feel the blood running down my neck and for a moment I wanted to be sick. She had hit me with my telescope, wielding it like a baseball bat and she had a mean swing. It seemed she also had a way with words.

"LET ME OUT YOU CRAZY BASTARD!"

"I'm not crazy," I leaned against the wall, suddenly weak and pressed a hand to my head. I felt dizzy.

"You can't do this!" She screamed and began kicking the door. The force of it made the door rattle in the frame and for a moment I thought it would give but the doors in the mansion are made to endure, I had tested them myself. I moved over to it and placed my hand against the wood, feeling the boom of her foot repeatedly kicking.

"Emma, please calm down."

"Fuck you!"

"I don't mean you any harm."

The kicks against the door stopped and I could hear her laughing. The sound was horrible and I moved away from the door. The calm, soft spoken woman from before is gone. Not that I believed that was really her, I had been watching her long enough to know that her calm is a mask over her anger. But she was very cool under pressure until reaching boiling point. When people are placed in threatening situations sides you never thought possible emerge, I knew that well. She had stopped banging on the door and I knew she was searching through the room she was trapped in, looking for a way out. She wouldn't find one, not in there.

Taking the opportunity to tend to my wound I climbed wearily up to my bedroom and inspected myself in the bathroom mirror. Blood was running down one side on my face and into the collar of my shirt. With a grimace I unbuttoned it and threw it onto the bath. I took a dry wash cloth and began cleaning the blood away from my face. Thankfully the bleeding seemed to have stopped. Gingerly I dabbed at the cut on my scalp and hissed. The pain blinded me for a minute and I had to steady myself against the basin. It hurt but it seemed to be shallow. Blinking away spots I cleaned the wound the best I could and then went back into my bedroom.

Emma was silent, the ruckus that she caused earlier now ended. I sat on the edge of my bed and looked down at the bloody cloth. My hands were shaking and wouldn't stop and my heart was racing. I closed my eyes, trying to get a grip on myself and calm down. I never wanted this to happen, not like that. I never wanted to hurt her but I couldn't see what else I could do. I had to get Grace back and that desire trumped any moral qualms I had. At least I thought it would but in reality it proved hard to reconcile. Thinking of doing something and actually doing it are two very different things. Inhaling deeply I got to my feet, fought a dizzy spell and put on another shirt.

Steeling myself and picturing Grace's face I went back down the stairs, descending carefully. The door stood closed as before but I looked up and down the hallway and then through the gap in the stairwell to be sure. I would put nothing past Emma. I stopped before the door and then knocked on it.

"Emma?"

Nothing. I moved closer and said her name again, more loudly but she did not answer. I tried the handle and the door was still locked. Not wanting to think the worse I looked back down the hallway and then pulled the key out of my pocket.

"Emma? I'm going to open the door. I know you're angry but don't attack me because you know I will fight back."

So saying I unlocked the door and opened it quickly, making the door bang against the wall. The large room beyond was dark, consisting of a bed, a cupboard and a desk. Unlike the other rooms in the mansion this one was the most bear and there was nowhere to hide. The window had been boarded up years ago, during one of my bored periods. A door that lead to the adjoining bathroom stood ajar and with a sigh I headed towards it.

"This is pointless…"

I kicked open the door and she came at me with a Gillette razor blade in one hand and cup full of bleach in the other. She threw it in my face and I manage to shield my eyes and blindly lift the gun at her. The bleach doused my face but thankfully missed the wound on my head. If it had the pain would have floored me and she would have escaped for sure. Luckily the slash of the blade did not come and I opened my eyes an inch. She was a foot away, enraged eyes switching between me and the gun wavering at her throat. She panted. I wiped my face against my bicep and then grabbed her arm, pulling her forward.

"I forgot about those."

"Clearly," she uttered, her previous fury gone and the calm tone back. She could switch it off and on in a blink, like her understanding it seemed. She had only been pretending to sympathise with me and like a fool I had fallen for it. That betrayal of my trust, however misplaced it was, enraged me more then the hat not working. I saw red...no, more then that I completely lost my head. Ha! I pushed her into the chair by the desk and took two steps away, gun still pointing at her.

"Well of there's one thing I've learned about you tonight it's that you're resourceful."

"And you're insane."

"And you're cruel."

She blinked at me and her mouth fell open, "You're accusing me of cruelty? YOU?"

"I thought you would help me but you don't really give a shit."

"BECAUSE YOU'RE TALKING CRAZY!" She yelled and slapped her hand down on the table.

I hate that word; I hate how powerless it makes me. No one takes you seriously if they think you're mad, even if you are. That's why I had to go to such extreme measures. Sometimes when the world discredits you, when even your word is called into question you have to act by any means necessary. But even after everything I had said and did she still didn't believe. I had spent years of toil trying to get back to Grace and I would not let that woman's cynicism stop me. I would make her believe if it was the last thing I did.

"I'm well aware of what you think of me but that doesn't matter. I just need you to do one thing and then you can go."

"Go?" Her righteous indignation stuttered and the first glimmers of fear appeared in her eyes. It was hard to witness but I know fear is the greatest tool towards compliance.

"I said that you wouldn't leave here until you had completed your task. I thought you would have done it by tonight but it seems I underestimated how stubbornly cynical you are."

"You — you can't keep me here."

"If I let you go would you come back and make the hat work?" Her answer was silence and I nodded. "That's why I never approached you until tonight. You never would have done it unless I took the initiative."

"You mean kidnapping?"

I said nothing, my teeth clenched together. I moved backwards to the door and she stood but did not follow me, her eyes on the gun.

"There's a bed and a shower and I'll get you clothes. You'll be comfortable." I wanted to laugh at what I was saying. I had been forced to live in that gilded prison for almost thirty years. I knew the comforts that it brought did little to mask the truth. It was a cage.

"Jefferson!" She cried out my name but I ignored her and locked the door. I pretended not to hear her yells and screams and after a few hours she grew quiet. I don't think either of us slept at all that night, anticipating what would happen the next morning.

All I knew was that I had to try again; I had to get her to work.

* * *

**_a.n_**

_This story shouldn't be too long, 6-8 chapters max unless it gets away from me..._


	2. Chapter 2

_**a.n:** threatening situations ahead..._

* * *

I rose early the next morning, watched Grace get ready for school and then made my way downstairs. I pressed my ear to Emma's door and listened but I couldn't tell if she was sleeping or not. After making sure the door was locked I went to the kitchen to make breakfast for two.

It was something different. It may seem small to you but after doing things for myself for so long it was exciting to change my routine. I had watched her in the mornings, before she went to work. She and Mary Margaret would have toast and cereal and then Emma would stop off at Granny's for a coffee before heading to the station. As I slotted bread into the toaster I thought about the night that Emma arrived and changed everything.

It had been raining all day and into the night. I knew something odd was happening when Henry walked out of Storybrooke earlier in the day. I had always kept an eye on Henry since he arrived in Storybrooke as a baby, the first sign of something different. He must have walked to the next town and caught a bus. So when a little yellow Beatle appeared bringing Emma and Henry back I knew it was the start of something big. After almost thirty years of being stuck in that house I finally allowed myself to hope. She was special and she would free me and everyone else in the town. I had one idea; one thought that began to occupy my every moment: she will make me a hat and make it work. I had seen the magic she had brought with her, even if she denies it but I knew I was right. I knew I was not crazy.

I ate my breakfast hurriedly and as the clock chimed eight I settled her breakfast tray down before the door and knocked. The gun was slid under my belt.

"Emma? I've brought you breakfast. You awake?" I opened the door and found her sitting tiredly up in bed. She had slept in her clothes, even her boots and had not slept under the covers. She stared at me blearily. At my feet were twisted bits of wire. She had found some paperclips from somewhere and had obviously tried to pick the lock.

"I was hoping it was all one big nightmare…" she eyed the open door and I closed it before she could get up. I settled the tray on the desk and gestured for her to eat. She got up, eyeing me warily and sat. I moved to the bed, watching her sniff and poke at the bowl of cornflakes. She grimaced and looked at me disdainfully.

"It's not poisoned, you can eat it."

"Sure, I'll take your word for it," she said and looked at the door again. I got up and, using a teaspoon, spooned some of the cereal into my mouth, looking at her pointedly. For good measure I took a sip of her tea and she stared up at me with hooded eyes.

"It's fine, see. You have a lot of work to do today; you'll need your strength." I moved back to sit on the bed and she sighed my name suddenly, turning to me.

"I made a hat last night and it didn't work. I don't have magic." She spoke softly, trying to get me to see reason but I shook my head at her. She thought she had to talk sense into me but did not realise it was the other way around.

"I know you think all this is crazy. You don't believe in magic and I get it. You come from a world where it doesn't exist so of course you're gonna bulk at the suggestion. But you've been in this town for a few months now and you really don't see anything strange about it?"

"Oh I see something strange all right," she turned her gaze back to the tray and I rolled my eyes. I leaned closer and watched her pick up the teacup and look at it suspiciously.

"Henry has been trying to get you to believe, I've seen that. Hasn't there been anyone else? Maybe something that someone said made you consider for just a second?"

She froze, hand tightening around the cup and I knew I had her. I had seen the recently deceased Sheriff Graham starting to remember, after a kiss with Emma in fact, but he had conveniently died. I could see Regina's hand in that supposed heart attack of course.

"Only Henry has said anything but he uses those stories to cope, okay? They're not real."

I'm not a patient man by trait and last night I had been very impatient, the prospect of being with Grace and going home so close I could almost touch it. If I wanted this to work I needed to take it easy on her, take it slow. I asked her to be more open; well I needed to be more understanding of her cynicism.

"Okay, fine. This isn't going to happen over night and I see I was expecting too much too soon. We'll take it slow and over time you'll begin to see the truth."

She stared at me, her head cocked to the side as if I was some weird creature she was trying to understand. She seemed oddly fascinated but there was a slice of pity I didn't care for, like I was some simpering fool who didn't know better.

"Look, I'll make a deal with you," she said, her voice level. "I'll make you a hat and try to make it work but only on the condition that you let me go. You do understand what you're doing is illegal, right? In this world you can go to prison for this."

"I'm perfectly aware of the implications of what I'm doing. I don't care. I promise I won't hurt you or force myself on you," it had to have crossed her mind. I had no interest it that and I wanted her to believe it. "I just want to take my daughter home, that's it."

"Okay, I believe you, I do but I can't stay here Jefferson."

"You'll stay as long as it takes. If you believe and make it work then you can go. It's that simple. I suggest you eat," I said and stood. I pointed at the cupboard. "There are some t-shirts and pants in there. They're mine so they'll be a little big. I'll come back in half an hour."

I walked to the door and turned when she called my name. She was standing, staring at me pleadingly.

"Please?"

"I'm sorry."

I closed the door and felt her trying to open it but I managed to get it locked. She started banging her fists against the door and I think that time it was from frustration and not anger or fear.

* * *

The night before I had given her a crash course in millinery but truth be told I had done most of the work myself (I had took up the trade through force and now I am as skilled and, I'll admit, as snobbish as any true professional). This time I would take her through the process slowly, pointing out and explaining what the equipment is for. I had never had a pupil before.

When I went back she had eaten some of the food and drank all of the tea. She must have been thirsty. Hoping that she was somewhat appeased that I hadn't drugged her I shooed her down the corridor back to my workshop, gun held limply in my hand. I asked her to sit and she did, sitting ram rod straight in the chair. She had changed into one of my old polo shirts but kept on her black jeans.

"Didn't the sweatpants fit?" They were draw string.

She shrugged and didn't reply. I locked the workroom door and then moved over to draw the curtains from the windows. The telescope she had hit me with was where she had dropped it and I picked it up. She actually had the gall to smirk at me.

"How's your head?"

"It hurts, no thanks to you," I put the telescope back in its mount and then sat opposite her.

"I hit you pretty hard, sure you don't have concussion?"

Wouldn't she love that? "If I did I think I'd know by now. Stop worrying about me and concentrate on that," I leaned over and picked up the hat she had worked on last night. It was good for a first timer but like I said before I had done most of the work. I placed it on the floor. Asking her to make it magic there and then would have failed; she needed to believe before she could access her power.

"If I make another hat I can go?"

"And make it work," I reminded her and she slumped back in the chair. She gazed at me and would not break eye contact.

"So I think happy thoughts and ta-da I'll be able to sprinkle magic fairy dust?" she wiggled her fingers over the table, her mouth a mocking sneer.

"From what I understand you charge it like a battery."

"So your magic, realm jumping hat needed constant recharging? Sucks for you."

"You have no idea. Now last night I didn't really spend enough time going over what you had to do so —"

She laughed, interrupting me, "No shit. You got so annoyed that I was doing the stitches wrong or not stretching the buckrim — "

"Buckram," I corrected.

"Whatever," she leaned over the table, eyes searing. "You wouldn't let me make my own hat, maybe that's why it didn't work."

I knew she was mocking me but she had a point.

"Maybe you're right but you should be able to make any object magical. Making something of your own works best."

Emma snorted softly, sitting back, "Well you've clearly overestimated me. I can't even darn a pair of socks."

"Well lucky for you after this you'll be able to do that and much more."

"Lucky," she said, looking into the distance. "I've been kidnapped by the Mad Hatter," she whispered as if it had only just sunk in. I hate being called that but I let it slide. Emma stared at me, laughed and then got up and walked to the door. She rattled the handle, trying to open it and then turned to me, smile still stretching her mouth but there was a light of desperation in her eyes.

"Emma…"

"This is insane. I won't do this."

"You have to."

"I don't have to do anything! What are you gonna do? Shoot me?" She gestured at the gun in my hand and I tightened my grip. "Do you even know how to fire one?"

"Do you really wanna test if I can?" Truth is I've never handled a gun in my life but she wasn't to know that. The idea of violence is powerful, I learned that in Wonderland. She stared at me; eyes narrowed and then went back to her seat. I thanked her and got up to put some music on. Working to silence can be counterproductive.

With some Vaughan Williams quietly filling the room — one of the things about Earth that I love, along with books — I presented her with the tools of my (other) trade. She listened, looking bored but she was attentive. Grudgingly she started asking me questions.

"So the hat block is used to make the crown and the funnel shape of the hat. They're measured to your head measurements?"

"Yes. In Wonderland I had hat blocks and brims to fit and suit anyone or any style but when I arrived in Storybrooke I came with what you see in here." Although when I was finally able to leave that house I did find most of my finished hats in Gold's pawn shop. That was a nasty surprise, especially for how much he was selling them for. Those useless hats cost me my head, literally.

"The buckram is the hat frame, you mould it over the block," she brushed her fingers over the white mesh.

"Correct. Then you stitch it together. I'll take you through it."

I think she had convinced herself that if she made my hat and then showed me that it wouldn't work it would devastate me enough to let her go. But she didn't know that I had made hundreds, possibility thousands of hats that didn't work. I was used to disappointment.

* * *

She worked until noon, silent and focused. When I first appeared in that house all those years ago I spent weeks and weeks trying to find a way to escape but it was pointless. The windows would not open or break, nor any of the doors leading outside. Even now only the front and back door that leads to the garden are accessible, the others are all affected by the curse. I think her concentration was spent half on the hat, half on a plan of escape.

As the clock tower chimed twelve times she sat back, sighing tiredly. She had constructed the bare frame of the hat and I looked at it carefully. I had kept my comments to a minimum, just speaking up when she looked stuck. The hat was obviously the work of an amateur but she had worked hard.

"Good. I'm going to make some lunch. Is there anything you'd like?"

She stared up at me, one eyebrow cocked, "I think you know the answer to that." She stood and stretched her arms over her head and my gaze lingered on her.

My interest in her was purely mechanical, I needed her to perform a function but I admit watching her for those months did affect me in a way I hadn't foreseen. Emma was special but I wasn't going to let whatever latent feelings I had developed go to my head. I turned to the door, key in hand but I never got it in the lock. I jerked when I felt her behind me and her breath against my neck.

"Open the door and lead me to the entrance. Otherwise I'm going to stab you," she said calmly and I felt something sharp digging into my back, above my kidney. She had one of my scissors. I felt more annoyed for being careless then scared.

"Emma, don't do this."

"Why?"

"Because your head it not the only one I can point this gun at," I looked over my shoulder at her and she blinked at me.

"You wouldn't."

"I would if it means it gets you to work. I know where Mary Margaret lives," I rattled off the address and her face grew pale. The pressure from the tip of the blade slackened and I struck. Twisting around I grabbed her wrist and held on until she dropped the scissors with a yelp. She pushed me against the door, as if she wanted to use me as a battering ram and the impact rendered me breathless but I kept hold of her. She struggled but I was stronger and she eventually grew limp, all her fight drained.

"You can't do this to me," she whispered.

"If you just do as I say you and school teacher will be fine. I swear Emma. Do you really think I enjoy doing this?" She shrugged in my arms and I leaned off the door, taking her with me. "I know you think I'm crazy and I guess this is. But I _can_ and _do_ think rationally and I know this is wrong."

"Then why don't you stop?" She said as I deposited her back into the chair. For good measure I swept all the scissors off the work station and placed them back into their draw. She was staring listlessly into the distance and the look made my stomach drop. Her spark had gone. I got on my knees before her, trying to capture her eyes with my own.

"Because if I stop trying to get back to my daughter I might as well die. I told you about being stuck in Wonderland but not what happened to me. It's true that I went mad, I was driven mad. I was forced to make hats for the Queen of Hearts, hats that were magical. I would present the hat to the court, spin it and when it inevitably didn't work my head was cut off. I made many, many hats Emma."

She looked at me as what I was saying sunk in. Horror settled over her face and she swallowed in disgust, her eyes flicking to my scarf hidden neck. That scar was real, proof that I had been hurt.

"You were beheaded more then once?"

"Yes but soon that had no effect on me. There was no fear of death because I couldn't die…but I could still feel pain. So when the axe didn't work they tried other methods," I came to a stop, the memory of the torture I had endured flashing into my mind. I had spent years trying to forget but it was impossible. Her face, one almost made to look sad, turned aside but I could see the pity she was trying to hide. She didn't believe in Wonderland but I think she did believe that I had been tortured.

"I'm sorry that you suffered but that doesn't give you the right to do this," she looked back at me, her gaze steady.

"That's not why I'm doing it. I may have been mad but I'm not any longer. I'm trying to get you to understand. All I have ever done, from when I was poor in the woods to insane in Wonderland to being stuck in this town, has been for Grace. I would face all their knives if it meant I got her back. Getting her back is all I want, do you get it? I don't know how to do anything else anymore."

"Then why waste your time doing this? She's over there," she pointed at the window. "You could talk to her."

"But she doesn't know who I am."

"Does that matter?"

"Of course it matters. Do you have any idea how painful it is when your own child doesn't know who you are?"

She shook her head, looking at her lap. "I used to imagine finding Henry but not telling him who I was. I thought if I could just see his face, see what he looked like it would be enough."

"But it's not is it?"

"No," she looked back at me and her eyes looked glassy.

"Your son is living with Regina, a woman we both know is the last person to have a kid. You're telling me there isn't a part of you that wants to take him home? A part of you that would do anything?"

She stared at me, opened her mouth and then clamped her lips together. "It's none of your business," she said stiffly and I nodded. She was right but I knew I had got through to her, as much as I could. I got to my feet and looked down at her.

"Now can I get you something to eat without you removing one of my kidneys?"

Her lips quirked so fast and faintly that I thought I had imagined it. She shrugged; her face blank and picked up the in progress hat. I made sure that any sharp objects were out of her reach and then kept my eyes on her until I had closed the door behind me and locked her in.

* * *

**_a.n:_**

_Yeah it's got away from me lol. Thanks for the enthusiastic response! More to come tomorrow hopefully :)_


	3. Chapter 3

There was a dinning room with a table running the length of it and a crystal chandelier above. A room made for lavish banquets and not the solitary life of a single man. Regina's idea of a joke, like everything in that house. If I trusted Emma enough I would let her eat there and take her on a tour, show her the rooms. But I knew she would take that as an opportunity to map out the house. If she did try to escape she'd be more likely to get lost trying to navigate towards the front door. Instead she ate her lunch and dinner on a lap tray which now sat beside her chair. The top hat was finished. The stitching was messy, the brim crooked but she had successfully made it on her own. I stood over her and she stared at me expectantly.

"Now what?"

"Now you concentrate on making it magical."

"Right…" She grabbed the hat and looked into it, her face screwed up in incredulity. She exhaled, her eyes narrowed and after ten seconds she looked at me again. "Do I have to say some magic words or what?"

"You're not taking this seriously," I moved around the table and stopped beside her. She stiffened but did not move away. Instead she thrust the hat into my hands.

"I don't understand what you want me to do! It's not a battery; I can't charge it with anything. It's just a hat," she finished weakly and stared at me plaintively.

I nodded slowly, "It _is_ just a hat, of course it is but I know you can change that. If you only start believing in yourself I know you can do it. You'll have to try again otherwise."

She groaned in frustration and batted the hat away, "I'm not making another one." She showed me the tips of her fingers which were red from sewing.

"It's either that or you spend the rest of the day trying to make it work," I said firmly and gave the hat back to her before walking around the table to sit. She clenched her teeth and looked daggers at me before inhaling and exhaling, calming herself. Shaking her head she focused on the topper and spent the next twenty minutes concentrating on it. She did not do so graciously but spent the entire time muttering curses under her breath, mostly directed towards me.

"I'm pretty sure muttering _stupid fugly hat_ won't work," I said after several minutes of her profanity.

She looked up, eyebrow cocked. "Maybe my magic works differently, okay? Those Harry Potter spells don't exactly roll off the tongue."

I smiled and sat back and she actually smiled in return. I know I can be high strung so actually smiling with some, talking, was a relief I never imagined. I took the hat from her and with a sense of giddy exhilaration placed it on the floor and stood back. In Wonderland I would present hat after hat to the queen with a sense of dread, knowing that my head was seconds away from being chopped off. Now that fear was gone because Emma was in my place. I thought of the Realm Room, asking the top hat to open a portal but it remained motionless. Emma watched me curiously.

"What are you expecting to happen?"

"If the hat works it should spin, grow larger and produce a gyre. A whirlwind," I added as she looked confused. I picked up the hat, trying not to be disappointed but I was. She was magical but she had a blockage and in her case I had no doubt it was emotional. She stood behind her chair, hands gripping the back and I smiled at her. I could have waved the gun at her and screamed for her to make another. Maybe in a few more weeks I would get to that point. I hoped not.

"It was a good effort." I placed the hat next to the first one she had made and turned back to her. Her shoulders were slumped but she straightened them quickly. To avoid looking at me she went over to the record player and flicked through the songs while I looked through the telescope, watching Grace finishing her dinner. She was talking animatedly and I liked to pretend I could hear. Sometimes she would look right at me, even though we were separated by such a gulf. Trivial maybe but I started to live for those little moments.

I turned back when _Alice_ by Jefferson Aeroplane started playing (how the worlds bleed together in such strange ways!) Emma smiled faintly and gazed across at me as she sat back down, clearly deep in thought.

"What?"

"Did you have a fear of going outside? Agoraphobia?"

"No, I told you I was stuck in here because of the curse." Though truth be told going outside did prove difficult at first, if only for the people who asked me if I was new in town. Ah the disadvantages of being a recluse.

"Right but no one else in this town has been magically imprisoned in their homes, just you."

I shifted on my feet because I knew that wasn't true, "Why the special treatment? Regina is cruel, that's what it boils down to. She gave me the opposite of what I wanted: wealth but no one to share it with. No Grace…"

She nodded, averting her eyes to the telescope. "So were stuck in here for twenty eight years? Didn't you get sick? How did you eat?"

I smiled. She didn't believe and was trying to trip me up. "Everyone here, baring Henry, was suspended in time. There was a woman who gave birth recently. Before you got here she was pregnant and had been in that state for decades. There were other people similarly afflicted, some deathly ill, others with colds. My health has been fine."

"Bodywise maybe...Okay so you never got sick. I asked you about food."

"I would eat what was in the cupboards and fridge freezer and the next morning it would all be back, as if I had never eaten it. Every so often the meal would change." I hate macaroni and cheese because of it.

"But that can't be true. Today I had pasta and yesterday it was beef curry. Different."

"I went shopping Emma. Since you arrived everything has changed. I can go into town and buy what I want." I walked to the window and peered outside before looking back. "I know you're trying to apply reason to what I'm saying but this isn't a reasonable situation. Odd things have happened and continue to."

"Well I won't argue that Storybrooke is a weird little town," she stood, stretched and looked at the rows of top hats behind her. "You made hats to pass the time?"

"I made those hats, and only those hats, to tick off the years," I went to her and stopped until my arm brushed her shoulder. I couldn't stop myself invading her space and honestly I wasn't even aware I was at first. After years of having no physical contact with anybody I craved it. She took a step away, eyeing me warily and then proceeded to quickly count the hats.

"Eighteen hats…eighteen years," she frowned, trying to work out the significance. I smiled behind her.

"I stopped making top hats ten years ago when someone different arrived to disrupt the monotony of my life."

"Henry," she breathed, looking between the hats and me with surprise.

"When you had your child at eighteen and he arrived here as a baby I saw him as a sign. I stopped repeating the thing that drove me insane and slowly I became more like my old self." Though not completely, there is something inside me that is too broken to fix though I think I do a good job covering the cracks. I have to if I want to be a good father to Grace because she must never be burdened with my past.

Emma gazed at me and I think it was then that she started to see me in a different light. She had missed raising her son but I had seen him grow every day, a different bright thing that defied Regina's curse. _He_ gave me hope and I wanted Emma to know that.

"Wh — what did you see?"

I gestured for her to sit and for the next few hours we talked about our children, the hat forgotten.

* * *

As night fell and another useless hat sat between us I knew that this arrangement would last much longer then I intended. It was something Emma knew from the start. As I chaperoned her back to her room, gun pointing at the carpet, she turned to me and after a pause touched my arm.

"I've been gone for over a day now and if this lasts any longer people will start looking for me. The sheriff disappearing would be suspect," she added, as if being the sheriff was the only reason people would bother searching for her.

"They won't worry if they think you've left under your own steam," I said and she grew still.

"I wouldn't leave Henry or Mary Margaret without telling them. They'll know something is off."

"Then save them the anxiety and write a note saying you're fine. It's either that or leave them to worry. Once you leave here and go back you can make up some excuse," I reached around her and pushed open the door but Emma didn't move.

"Or I could tell them the truth," she said flatly.

"Or that." By then I would be long gone and out of their reach. Emma continued to stare at me in contemplation.

"If I wrote Mary Margaret a letter explaining that I've gone back to Boston would you make sure she got it?"

I thought it over and shrugged, "Maybe but I wouldn't let _you_ write it. You're sneaky Emma; you'd find some way to tip her off. That would be bad for everyone," I waved the gun slightly and she smiled thinly, looked at her feet and then back up. Her gaze was hooded.

"Fine. I'll try again but if I'm forced to work my ass off at least let me choose one I like. A hat made for me."

My eyes widened, "Like what?"

She bit her lip, eyes looking upwards in thought before she smirked, "A Stetson. I am the sheriff of this town after all. Think you can do that?"

I grinned at her. "It shouldn't be too hard. But getting the new block to your measurements might take a few days."

"Better get whittling then," she turned to go into the room but I saw the way she hunched over slightly and had to make herself step over the threshold.

"I can give you another room if you don't like this one."

She looked over her shoulder at me. "It'll still be a cell no matter what room it is."

I looked away from her, unable to withstand the horrible look in her eyes. Instead of locking the door I took a tape measure out of my pocket and followed her in.

"I'll need to measure your head," I showed her the tape and she said nothing, just stood there. I moved close to her and placed the tape around her head so the tape rested above her eyebrows. I was so close I could smell the shampoo she had used and uncontrollably I leaned into her. I gazed into her eyes and then at her lips, back and forth and I could feel the warmth of her body against mine. I wanted to kiss her desperately, thoughtlessly. Emma stared into my eyes and for one insane second I thought she would allow me but with the slightest movement she shook her head. I stepped away, the tape measure falling around her.

"Is that everything?" Her voice was toneless.

"Yes," I muttered and made for the door. My chest was tight and my head felt like it would burst when I heard the lock clicking into place.

* * *

I couldn't stay in the house. Before I would leave because it was too empty but that night I had to leave because I had company. I felt mentally and emotionally untethered. For months I had one objective, one aim and that was to get a hat that worked. Emma was just a means to an end, not someone to be attached to. But I was and the loss of control over myself was frightening. It was primal, a feeling rooted in instinct, the need to connect on even the most basic level. It was like going mad all over again. She must have thought I was a deviant but that wasn't it. You see the longer she took to make a hat that worked the longer I had company. When she was there I wasn't alone.

That was unexpected and something I had to purge. I would not let those feelings hinder what I had struggled to accomplish: being a father to Grace again. Whatever affection I had for Emma would never supersede that. But still I had to get away from her, if only for a few hours. Making sure that all the doors were locked I made my way through the dark town, the inhabitants getting ready for bed. Next to the harbour I saw a light and headed towards it. For the years I had been watching Geppetto he always worked late into the night and that night was no different.

"Good evening," I said, stopping outside his workshop. He looked up and blinked in surprise before his eyes narrowed as he tried to place me.

"Good evening, can I help you?"

I walked forward and offered my hand. "I hope so. My name is Jefferson."

We shook hands and he smiled. "I haven't seen you around."

"No, I don't get out much," I dropped his hand and looked around at the objects he had made. For years he had worked on one piece, a cuckoo clock, but now he seemed to be working on a chair. On a shelf I spotted a hat block and pointed at it. "That's what I'm interested in. I'm a milliner."

"Ah I used to make blocks and brims for many hatters. Do you have something in mind?"

I told him the specifics of what I needed and fifteen minutes later we had agreed on a deal. In three days I would have Emma's specially made hardwood hat block. Walking back towards the house I felt considerably lighter then leaving it. In the morning I would talk plainly to Emma, make it clear that my interest in her was purely platonic. But as I got to the drive I knew something was wrong. I stopped, hyper alert and then I heard it.

When the garden gate is left off its latch it clangs against it and for that reason I had wrapped a chain around it. The gate was open and as I ran through the garden I saw the chain in the grass. I turned and saw that the kitchen door was wide open. Somehow Emma had escaped from her room and out through the back of the property. Her car was locked in the garage so she probably decided to go through the woods to avoid running into me.

"EMMA?" I shouted and ran through the gate and out into the wood. The trees that crowd the mansion are thin but within minutes it becomes unbelievably dense. I had spent hours searching through it while making maps so I had a pretty good idea what direction the town was but Emma had no such knowledge. The forest was eerie and almost impassable during the night. Taking a guess I headed towards the river which was a faint garbling noise through the trees. If I was lost I would head towards it and follow its progress to the Toll Bridge but the terrain was treacherous and as I crested a hill I felt a laden sense of foreboding. I shouted out her name and something made a noise in the distance and I froze. Just as I was about to turn I spotted a dark figure darting between the trees and I ran after it. Her position spotted Emma ran blindly towards the river.

"Emma wait! STOP!"

But she wouldn't. There was a roaring in my ears and my heart was pounding. The forest comes to a sudden stop at the top of a bluff that runs along the river before levelling out after a few kilometres. If Emma kept on running she would fall.

"Leave me alone," she shouted and turned to me. She was panting and her body was silhouetted against the sky, a black figure surrounded by stars.

"Don't move," I approached her slowly, also panting for breath but she took a step back and then with a startled gasp she plummeted out of view. Seconds later I heard a splash and I lunged forward, almost going over the edge myself. Gripping a thin tree I shouted her name and in the dark waters below I saw her emerge for a second before the current pulled her under and she was lost to me. Scared and swearing every curse I knew I inhaled and jumped in after her.

* * *

**_a.n:_**

_dun dun dun! To be continued ;)_


	4. Chapter 4

When I was ten my foot broke through some thin ice, right up to my shin. There was a lake that froze solid in the winter and as a dare me and some other kids would see who had enough guts to walk across it before chickening out. Stick in hand and a flimsy bit of rope around my waist I slipped and slid along, poking the ice until I almost reached the other side. The others gawped at me, amazed that this scrawny girl from the orphanage had managed to do something only the big kids could. I turned to them from the other bank and raised my arms in triumph as they clapped and cheered.

It was, at least for those few seconds, one the happiest memories from my childhood. The celebrating ended when I took a step back and the ice under my heel gave way without warning. Because I was near to the bank the lake wasn't that high but the moment that icy water touched my skin I let out the most ear piercing scream imaginable. It was if my foot was being stabbed and the water so freezing that my skin seemed to burn. Thirty seconds later I was a hyperventilating mess in the snow. I had never felt such cold and, until that night with Jefferson, I had been careful to avoid it again.

That plunge into the lake, which lasted only a few seconds, did nothing to prepare me for the river. Just like when I was ten I stepped back and the surface I thought would be there was not. I fell, too surprised to scream but the moment my back hit the water and submerged I would have screamed something to rival my younger self. Instead my nerves did the shrieking for me, my skin on fire from the water and for a few seconds I was too shocked to do anything but float there. I think my heart may have stopped. But then my lungs started to burn and I kicked against the current and broke the surface of the river. In movies when someone is drowning they scream for help but let me tell you that's crap. The only thought in your head, aside from the agony that is now your body, is to breathe. I gulped down air and then the current swept me away and under.

I didn't see or hear him jump in after me. Any thought of Jefferson was gone. All I could think about, if think is the right word, was water and air. I kicked against the former to reach the later and my stinging face met the cooler night air. I managed to keep my head above water and realised that I was at the bottom of a cliff and as I twisted in the current I saw that it grew less steep and a crowd of trees was ahead. I took all this in within seconds and kicked as hard as I could towards the bank of the river. I knew if I didn't grab onto a branch I would drown and be swept out to sea. I am not a strong swimmer but your body can surprise you. The first branch that appeared overhead I missed, the second skimmed against my fingers but the third I managed to get my hand around and then the other. Screaming with effort I pulled myself along the branch towards some that were lower but I was scared to let go, the current forcefully pulling at my legs. But with a series of kicks I reached the other branch and clutched at the edge of the bank. Roots grew below the water and they offered a foothold and with another burst of energy I pulled myself out of the river and slumped onto the bank.

I don't know how long I laid there shivering and panting, staring up at the bare branches but after a few minutes the trembles wracking my body was too much. Groaning I sat up, teeth chattering uncontrollably and looked at the river below. It rolled on, oblivious to the death it could have caused. Soaking wet and more cold then I have ever been in my life I looked up the river, suddenly thinking of Jefferson when something further down the bank caught my eye. A voice in my head, which sounded a lot like Mary Margaret, told me to get up and find warmth but I had to see. Too weak to stand I crawled on my hands and knees towards the trees and saw with a sinking feeling that Jefferson's long coat was tangled up in the branches.

Days before, hours even, I would have got up and left but seeing his coat, one he had probably took off to help him swim made me look along the river carefully. My heart felt like it would burst it was beating so hard and I almost had no control over my limbs but I made myself move, calling out his name in a croaked voice. I owned him nothing but I would not leave someone to die.

"Jeff — Jeff?" I could only utter that, his full name too much effort.

I shuffled like an old woman to the bend in the river and saw that beyond the trees the bank widened to a small pebbled bed. Lying face down in the water and not moving was Jefferson. The only reason he wasn't being swept out to sea was because his trousers had been snagged by some braches but any second they could lose their purchase. I will not lie and say that I didn't consider leaving him there but the thought was gone before I could even be ashamed at myself. Half rolling down the bank I fell painfully against the pebbles, that freezing water washing up against my knees. With a strength I shouldn't have had I turned him over and the branches let go of his leg. The current would have snatched him out of my hands but I hooked my shaking arms under his shoulders and with my last bit of strength heaved him out of the river. I fell back and his heavy weight fell on top of me but I was too cold and tired to move him.

I counted in my head to twenty and then struggled out from under him. His head fell back against the pebbles, his already sallow face almost blue. The river had taken his scarf and the scar around his neck stood out a garish red against his pale skin. I moved onto my knees and lowered my ear to his mouth. I felt nothing and with movements that felt automated I tilted his head back and breathed into his mouth. I had no strength to sustain compressions for thirty seconds but after a few weak thumps against his chest he started to heave and I pushed him onto his side before collapsing. He coughed and choked and the river garbled. In the distance a bird started to sing. Nature is one indifferent bitch.

After he had thrown up half the river and then some more he fell onto his back and stared up at the diminishing stars. He panted, a rough sound, and then he looked at me as if he had just realised I was there. He blinked and then for a reason I couldn't understand he started to cry. He didn't wail or sob he just stared at me silently while tears ran down his face. He opened his mouth to speak, I think he tried to say my name but he couldn't. His eyes looked at me and it was a look I will never forget because I have no idea what it meant. Safe to say no one had looked at me like that before and it shook me.

"We — we should — get dry," my teeth were chattering and it made talking almost impossible. In most aspects of my life I have no idea what I'm doing but in situations like that, for some reason, I feel weirdly in my element. I don't have to over think things, I just do them. He was not the crazy man who had kidnapped me but someone who would die if I left him. I don't want to paint myself as some mother Teresa; I didn't act out of total altruism. If I didn't move _I_ would end up in a bad way to.

Both shaking uncontrollably we helped each other stand. He leaned against me and weakly lifted his hand and pointed into the woods. As the sky lightened I could see there was a thin path running through the trees and so with my arms wrapped around his soaking chest and his arm over my shoulder we staggered along the path.

I have no idea how long it took us to get back but when the house came into view the sun was just beginning to rise and the birds were in full chorus. As we stopped beside the gate to rest — there had been many pit stops and falls along the way — I looked at the house I had worked so hard to escape from. Was I really going to go back into it willingly? Before I could decide he slumped against the gate and then collapsed again. I felt like I was seconds away from doing the same.

"Damn it. Jeff? Jefferson?" I nudged him with my toe and he groaned, lifting his head. He then did something very strange. He laughed.

"I h — hate this house, of…of course it — it would be here…now I'm…dead," saying this cost him a great effort and with one last crazed smile he fainted.

* * *

When I finally got him into the house and dumped him in a room I immediately looked for something to start a fire with. I was so preoccupied with this that I didn't really take in where I was. It was a library; the whole room was filled with books, enough to keep someone content for a lifetime or two. But after a violent shiver passed through my body I found something to light a fire and set some logs alight. I stoked it, grimacing at the cold soggy clothes sticking to my body. I was still freezing and shivering and in the back of my mind I knew I had a case of hypothermia that could be dangerous if I didn't act.

The fire burning I looked down at Jefferson who seemed to be delirious. Where I had dropped him on the rug was now a spreading pool of water. I looked down and saw that I was standing in a small puddle. I moved and stood over him; my shudders becoming more powerful and called out his name. He opened his eyes and looked up.

"Em — Emma?"

"Yeah. You need to get dry."

"You — you f — fell," he said and tried to stand up but he only managed to lean up on an elbow. "I'm so cold."

"You need to change out of your wet clothes, we both need to,"

I plucked at the polo shirt and it became unglued from my skin horribly. The cold was creeping deep into my blood, into my bones. I walked over to a chair that had an ugly throw over and then pulled it off. I turned back to Jefferson who had managed to get onto his knees and eyed him coolly before heading out into the corridor to get undressed. I pulled the t – shirt off, moaning at the cold air that hit my skin but taking my jeans off was worse. The denim was like a second skin that did not want to come off. Whatever energy I had was fading, it took me almost ten minutes to get off my boots, pants and socks. I sat in my underwear on the carpet and looked up at the walls. I hadn't noticed before but the light fixtures were actually blue china teacups and saucers. Noting this peculiarity made me think of Jefferson. I looked at the door to the library, pulling the blanket I had taken around my shoulders.

I could have left then, I could have walked to a neighbor, alerted someone but I couldn't even make it to the door. You know when you shiver so hard that your muscles start to ache and become stiff? It was worse then that and the only energy I had left was used to push the door open with my foot. I saw him through the gap, sprawled on the floor. He had tried to do two things and failed. One was getting closer to the fire and the other removing his wet clothes. His shirt was half off, he had clearly had trouble getting the cuff over his hand and the top button to his jeans was open. I managed to smile weakly at his failed attempt and the vindictive stab of pleasure gave the push I needed to crawl into the room and sit beside the fire. He blinked at me, his breathing fast and shallow and I pulled the blanket over me. My bra was wet and felt gross but I felt too vulnerable without it. Stupid really, I could have done a strip tease and he wouldn't have noticed.

"Trouble?" I asked and he managed to smile faintly.

"I used to…have a valet…you know?"

"Sure you did," I yawned and watched him shiver until he squeezed his eyes shut from the force of the shudders passing through his body. I knew how he felt but shivering was a good thing. Suddenly he looked at me, very lucid.

"Your hat block will be…will be ready in thr — three days."

"Right…"

"You — you planned it all, didn't you? You wanted me…wanted me out the house." He smiled, as if pleased he had worked it out rather then angry at me. He pulled himself along the carpet before falling beside me and I think he was seeking the warmth rather then me.

"It doesn't matter," I said and moved to stoke the fire. The iron poker was almost too heavy to lift and I managed a few jabs before dropping it. I felt so weak, so tired. Jefferson reached out one trembling hand and brushed his fingers against my scratched bare knee.

"How did you do it?"

I wasn't going to answer him. I saw myself getting up and finding another room to get warm in. I would wait until I was strong enough and then leave. He was too sick to stop me. Then I would call an ambulance and arrest the crazy bastard. But I did none of those things. Instead I looked into his blearily blue eyes and cocked my head.

"Your one flaw was forgetting who I was. Before I resided over a prison I used to be in one."

He smiled in amusement and then promptly fell asleep. I looked at his wet clothes, at the incredibly pale skin. The corners of his mouth had started to turn blue. Swallowing any revulsion I moved close to him and with shaking fingers unbuttoned his shirt. He was slender but fit, especially for someone who claimed to be housebound for years. I worked as quickly as I could, tried to be impartial like a nurse would be but I couldn't. When he had taken me he had promised that he had no interest in sex and I had believed him at first. I still believe his primary focus was getting back to his daughter but I couldn't ignore the way he would look at me or his touch. It frightened me; of course it did, just as it would frighten you. Every time he would get close, stare into my eyes and then inevitably look at my lips I felt like the air was crackling. The tension was like nothing I had ever felt; it was so taut and with so much sexual repression. It was then I started to believe that he had been without contact, cut off from being able to touch or hold. That was when I knew I had to escape. If I stayed something would happen and maybe I would get to a point where I wanted it to.

My fingers hovered over the buttons of his jeans. He was asleep, his face turned to the fire. Even asleep he shivered and with a firmer resolve I unbuttoned his jeans and tugged them down his legs. His boxers I did not touch. I did all this and felt nothing until I sat beside his almost naked body and looked down at my own. The blanket had fallen around my legs and with a burning face I wrapped it back around me. I stared at him for a few minutes, trying to stay awake. I needed sleep but I couldn't even get up. As much as I didn't want to admit I knew body warmth was what we both needed. Teeth clenched I laid down close and spread out half of the blanket over him. I made sure that there was a space between us and within seconds I had fallen asleep to the sound of his ragged breathing.

* * *

**_a.n:_**

_So the next few chapters will be from Emma's POV._


	5. Chapter 5

I woke up at noon and the fire in the grate had burned down to cinders. I was no longer as cold but even raising my head was an effort. I had never felt so weak and to top it off I had an awful headache. I shifted, sleeping on the floor was _not_ a good idea, and felt him pressed against my back. Either I had moved closer while we slept or he had. I sat up, groaning at the stiffness in my arms and legs and looked down at him. He was quietly asleep, the labored breathing from earlier gone. I touched his hand and it was like a block of ice. The tips of his fingers had gone blue. I should have wrapped his hands and feet but I was too tired. I got unsteadily to my feet and left the blanket over him. Only in my bra and knickers I shivered and walked as quickly as I could to find something to wear. Walked is being generous, I hobbled like an old woman. My hair had dried while I slept and it hung in ragged knots down my back. I removed leaves and twigs from it as I tried to find the room he had kept me in.

The house was ridiculously big and it took me ten minutes to find the bedroom. I opened the door and moved quickly to the chest of drawers. I searched until I found a pair of sweatpants and an old sweater and then I picked out the same for Jefferson. I then took off my underwear, wincing as my painful muscles — you don't feel it at first but when you push your body to the limit oh it lets you know later. I spared a moment to look around the bedroom. Unlike most of the other rooms this one was not so garishly decorated. The walls were a greenish white and repeated along the bottom was a reed motif. Up in a corner a flock of swans were in flight. I wondered and still do if the room was already like that or if he decorated it especially. I would look at those swans and imagine where they were flying before going to sleep. In reality they were as stuck as me, or so I thought. I showered as quickly as I could and struggled to get the tangles out of my hair before looking at myself in the mirror. I looked and felt like shit and there were numerous scratches and bruises all over my body from the river. But I was alive and free.

I was starving but I decided to go back to him first. By the time I found the kitchen, made something and ate it he could have died. Superstitious maybe but he was ill. Finding the library wasn't too much of a hassle but it still took me awhile. The clock above the mantle said it was approaching one and as I moved into the room he stirred and tried to sit up.

"Is it morning already?" He asked in a sluggish voice and looked around in confusion. I said nothing but dropped his clothes onto his lap. He blinked at them and picked up the sweater and stared at it as if I had just handed him a onesie.

"Get dressed, you need to stay warm," I moved over to the fire but I couldn't see anymore wood. Jefferson got to his feet behind me but only managed a few steps before he fell into a chair.

"Where's Alice? Are you here for tea?"

I gazed at him, taking in his wide eyed confusion and knew that I was out of my depth. He was not dying, at least I thought not, but he was clearly not well. Maybe the knock on the head I had given him had done some damage. I moved to him, picking up the clothes he had dropped and offered them. He looked up at me, eyes flicking between mine before he smiled suddenly. The effect it had on his face was, well, alarming. He was a handsome man, I won't deny that but that smile was something else. I could see a line of swooning women he must have charmed in the past with that smile. I admit when I first saw him I was taken aback and far too trusting but I put that down to guilt for almost running him over. Kidnapping and drugging takes a certain shine off, if that isn't obvious.

"Emma," he said as he recognized me and before I could stop him he grabbed my hand and kissed my fingers. I snatched my hand away, feeling flustered and glared at him.

"I'm this far from leaving your crazy ass," I threatened and I wasn't lying. Once I knew that he wasn't at death's door I was leaving and then coming back with an arrest warrant. At this threat he said nothing, just continued to smile up at me. I'm not sure he really knew who I was. After some coaxing and swearing, both on my end, Jefferson managed to get dressed. As the clock in town struck one he suddenly looked towards the window in dismay.

"Grace! I'm meant to take her to school!" He tried to reach the telescope — there was one in almost every room — but staggered before he could get there. He leaned against the wall, clutching his head. I went to him and touched his arm.

"You don't take Grace to school, her parents do that."

"…I know," he admitted and then gave me a looked filled with such misery that I couldn't stand to look at him. It was like before; when he thought I would help him and got so choked up with emotion it looked like he would burst. I had to do and say anything to escape but I did feel bad for fooling him. My hand still on his arm I asked him where the nearest bed was and after thinking about it he pointed down the corridor. The bedroom was not what I had in mind but it did consist of a bed, one made for a child. The room was pink and huge, with every toy imaginable. I'm a grown woman but I admit I felt a pang of jealousy but also sadness.

"Is this Grace's bedroom?"

He nodded and for some reason would not look. "It was here when I arrived. It's always been here, waiting for her but she never comes."

I closed the door, not knowing what to believe. I don't think he means Grace any harm, he sincerely believes that he is her father but it is off putting. I asked for another room and after what felt like hours we found one. We could have gone to his bedroom but it was at the top of the house and neither of us was able to make the stairs. I left him to sit on the bed while I looked for something to cover his hands. Behind the door of a walk in closest I found a rack of scarves and grabbed a few. Jefferson was attempting to get into bed and I waited until he had. Once under the covers he continued to stare at me. The confusion was fading and he gazed with a new clarity.

"I feel like I've run a marathon," he stared at his pale hands and grimaced when he flexed his fingers.

"You have hypothermia but you'll live," at least I thought so. I moved to the bed and gave the scarves to him. He wrapped them around his hands without prompting. He sighed and looked up at me shrewdly.

"You'll want to know where your coat is?"

"And the keys to the garage. I need my car."

He nodded and then a slow smile curled over his face. "I'll tell you but not just yet."

"Jefferson," I sighed and sat on the chair beside the bed. The smile faded and he gazed at me with a soft intensity.

"I need you. I can't have a happy ending without you." It would sound romantic to anyone else but I knew he meant something else. At least I hoped so.

"You _don't_ need me and I can't give anyone a happy ending. Look at me;" I said with a laugh, "my life is a mess. How can you expect me to magically give someone a happy ending when I can't even find one for myself?"

If I expected this to sadden him it didn't. It had the opposite effect. His eyes gleamed with an idea and he sat up against the pillows.

"That's it, that's why it wouldn't work. You need to be happy."

"Jefferson no," I shook my head and he remained silent but the new fire in his eyes kept burning. "Look, I believe that _you_ believe you're Grace's father and you'd do just about anything to get back to her. I — I've never had a father but if I did I'd want one who loved me that much."

"Then you understand why I've done these things?" He asked hopefully.

"Yes but that doesn't excuse the simple fact that you're wrong. What you've done is wrong and you can't justify it. You kidnapped, drugged and forced me to stay here. That's not right."

I talked to him gently and he looked away. I had spoken like that with him before but I did so because I didn't want to rouse him to anger. I thought he was unpredictable, insane and possibly violent. Now I see I had been wrong. I could reason with him. He was desperate, dedicated and, the most strange, sane. He acted crazed because he was so desperate but he was not the Mad Hatter from the book spouting nonsense. I'm not saying he was _completely_ sane, I don't think he would argue with that either. He was unhinged but I don't think he was truly dangerous. Maybe _I_ sound insane; maybe he has got to me. I don't know, that's just how I feel about him now.

"Everything I've done has been for Grace," he said, his go to excuse.

"I understand that but can't you see you're repeating history?"

"What?" He shifted in the bed and stared at me uncomfortably.

"When I made the hat, the first one, you told me about getting stuck in Wonderland. You knew you had no magic but you were forced to make hats through fear and the need to get back to Grace. You wanted to escape." I let those words sink in before continuing. "Now I'm not saying I believe you're the Mad Hatter but…you've obviously been through something," I looked at the scar around his neck and he looked away, biting his lip. I leaned forward and settled my hand next to his scarf covered one. "Maybe you did it so you held some power this time or maybe because it was the only way you knew: through force. You became the Queen of Hearts and I became you."

"No," he said fiercely and looked at me. His eyes were blazing with anger. "I could never, _never_ become like her. She — she hurt me for her own amusement, out of _boredom_ until I cracked and was no use to her. I would never be so cruel." He spoke in a disgusted tone but also beseechingly. He begged me to believe him. "I would never want you to go through what I did."

"Maybe," I whispered.

"I swear. The gun has no bullets; I don't even know how to fire one. It's in my room, check if you want! And," he stalled, looking guilty, "and I wouldn't have hurt Mary Margaret, your mother. I just needed you to think I would." He shook his head in shame. "I could never hurt anyone, ask Regina. If she was here right now and I had the chance to kill her…I couldn't do it. She always said I never had it in me." He sounded bitter.

"That's a good thing Jefferson," I said, touching the back of his bare wrist and he looked at me quickly.

"I know."

I gazed into his sorrowful eyes that were pleading with me. Finally I shook my head. "You might not have wanted to act like the queen but you did. Unaware of the similarity maybe but you did it."

He stared intensely at me and I could see the conflict in his face. I think a part of him wanted to deny it but the truth was too heavy to ignore. He averted his eyes and bowed his head in shame.

"A hat without magic is just a hat," he whispered gutturally and looked at me with tear filled eyes. "I'm sorry Emma. I'm sorry…" he looked away, overcome with emotion and I got up and walked to the window to give him time. I stared out and the view showed a glimpse of the sea and lighthouse. It was beautiful from up here. After some minutes he called me back and I sat. His eyes were red but he had control over himself and was able to look at me.

"I think you did what you did because you couldn't see there was another way."

"You wouldn't have listened to me."

"Jefferson I might not have magic but I _am_ the law in this town. If you _are_ her father then you could have a paternity test."

He scoffed, "That's not the issue."

"But I would have listened," I said firmly and he nodded. He stared at the telescope, which was no doubt pointed at Grace's house.

"You're a good person Emma. You think you're not, you think you're unworthy but you're wrong. You could have left me to drown but you didn't. You saved my life. You even stayed to make sure I was okay," he looked back and there was something in his eyes, something soft and longing and I grew tense. I found it hard to breathe but I smirked at him darkly.

"Don't get ahead of yourself. I came back because I had nowhere else to go. If I had tried to get back to town I'd be as sick as you." I wouldn't have made it out the forest.

He nodded. "Still, you're a much better person then I am," his good humour vanished. "What I did wasn't right but if you'd spent all those years focused on one thing you might see that the lines between moral good and bad start to blur. I'd do anything for Grace…and that's wrong."

I stared at him in surprise. "She's your daughter," I pressed my lips together after I said it because there wasn't a shred of doubt in my voice. I had started to believe him. "I mean if it was Henry…I would do anything for that kid." I don't know how or when that happened but it was true.

He smiled weakly, "When you're a parent you tend to lose perspective." He stared into the distance. "You know the real reason I haven't spoken to Grace?" I shook my head. "Because I don't want to disappoint her."

"Disappoint her?"

He nodded, "I've changed. Even with all her memories back I doubt she'll recognise me as the father she knew. I — I'll frighten her," he whispered and I looked at him sadly. "Soon she'll hear that I'm the Mad Hatter and then discover the lengths I went to so we could be reunited…" he stared at me pitifully. "What if I get her back only to lose her again?"

"I don't know. I don't have an answer for you." The answer I could have said but didn't was that he had to face up to the things he had done. If he was truly sorry, and I think he was, then he would have to make it up to her but any forgiveness would be up to his daughter.

Jefferson sighed, "I just want to be someone she can be proud of. Sometimes I envy the people in this town who don't know who they are or what they've done. To forget…" he trailed off, probably imaging some fantasy life for him and Grace where everything is perfect. I used to imagine something similar when I was a kid. I was someone completely different with a family that loved and wanted me. Now I have a child separated from me...It hasn't escaped my notice the similarities we share.

Have I forgiven him? Yes, to a degree, but don't think I've gone soft. Once he was well enough I would press charges, I don't care how noble his intentions were. He needed year's worth of therapy and some lengthy hours of community service, which would probably do him good. I told him so as he started to fall asleep and he smiled.

"Doing what?"

"I need to decide on something suitable."

His eyebrows lifted and his eyes lingered on me. For some reason his pale face went slightly red. "I uh, I need to apologise for something else."

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable," he kept his gaze fixed on my shoulder. It felt like someone was squeezing my chest because I knew exactly what he was talking about. But I didn't let on. If I could make him squirm then good. It's the least he deserves. I stared at him blankly.

"Uncomfortable?"

His eyes snapped to mine, "You know what I mean. I — I've been stuck in this house for a very long time and I…well you're the first person in twenty eight years I've spoken to or been near enough to touch. I'm sorry if I overstepped."

Sometimes there was a formality to his words, a gruff brusque quality, and something he said while delirious came back to me. "You said that you had a valet." While I wanted to make him squirm dancing around the fact he was sexually attracted to me was not something I wanted to address, no matter how indirectly.

He blinked, "I did? I don't remember…" He shrugged, "I did have one, more then one, but that was years before Grace was born. I was wealthy."

"Wealthy but with shitty manners."

"Oh Emma the nobility are the rudest bunch of people you'll ever meet…your highness," he added, his eyes gleaming with mischief, and I wondered how we had gotten to this point. I guess saving someone's life changes things, even in situations like ours.

I opened my mouth to utter a scathing reply but I was never given the chance. Me and Jefferson stared at each other with matching expressions of surprise. Someone was knocking on the front door.

* * *

**_a.n:_**

_so the next chapter may be the last or there might be more. It depends on how much I end up writing._


	6. Chapter 6

I got up and walked to the door where someone was knocking urgently. The closer I got the more clearly I could hear the person shouting frantically. It was a kid and not just any kid.

"Henry?" I rushed to the door and threw it open and sure enough my son looked up at me in complete surprise, his hand still poised to knock.

"Emma?" His mouth fell open and there was a pause before he flung himself into my arms. I held him tight and the tension and stress seemed to melt away. On the heels of that relief I felt a weakness so profound I almost fell to my knees. Almost fainting I gripped his shoulders and looked into his striken face. He was pale and his cheeks were wet. He was crying.

"What's wrong?"

He gasped and stepped back, "I need an ambulance! I mean Mary Margaret needs one! That's why I was knocking at the door."

The relief I felt vaporised as something inside me stiffened painfully. "Mary Margaret?"

"Yes! We need to call an ambulance. Now!" He shouted and the panic in his voice made me move. I turned back into the house and found Jefferson leaning weakly against the door frame. He stared in surprise at Henry who looked just as shocked to see him.

"Phone! I need a phone!" I shouted at him and he blinked before slowly shaking his head.

"I don't have one, I've never had one. What's going on?"

"It's Mary Margaret, she's been hurt," I said and looked around the corridor even though I had heard him. If there wasn't a phone in the house I would have to run to a neighbour. I moved towards the door when Jefferson suddenly grabbed my arm. His grip was gentle but I stopped.

"You have a cell phone in your jacket. It's up in my room," he said clearly and I gave him one thankful nod before shouting at Henry to follow me. I was still weak but my kid could jump two stairs at a time. I told him to run to the very top of the house and look for my black jacket. I think he must have flown because no sooner had I finished shouting all this he came running back down the stairs with my coat.

"Thank god!" I fumbled for my cell and dialled 911. I passed Jefferson at the front door and saw that he was putting some shoes on but I didn't look back to see if he was following. With a burst of speed that cost me everything me and Henry raced up the street and towards the boundary of the town.

* * *

The sign that proclaims visitors are now leaving Storybrooke was only a five-minute walk away from Jefferson's house but by the time I got there I could hardly stand. As we ran Henry told me breathlessly what happened.

"When you left I was going to find you but my mom wouldn't let me out of the house. But I knew from school that Mary Margaret was planning to go to Boston. I told August and we tried to stop her but she wouldn't listen. I saw her leaving and I contacted August. We took his motorbike and managed to stop her before she drove past the sign." He stopped for breath, his fingers digging into a stitch.

"What happened?" I had the cell phone to my other ear and told them to send an ambulance but I couldn't tell them what the problem was.

"We told her that leaving would be a bad thing, she could get hurt but she didn't believe us. She said that she would prove that there was no curse and walked over the boundary line. She said she was going to find you and nothing would stop her."

I felt my heart clenching and tears pricked my eyes. Up ahead I could see August's motorbike glinting through the trees and as we ran around the bend in the road I saw Mary Margaret. She was lying on the road some distance from her car and August was sitting next to her. He had moved her into the recovery position. Running towards her prone figure was one of the most frightening thing I have ever experienced because in that moment I knew she could be dead.

"Emma?" August said, staring at me in shock but I said nothing. "We tried to stop her but she walked passed the sign and then she just collapsed. I don't know what's wrong with her."

I dropped to my knees and in the distance I could hear a faint siren. Mixed in with that noise was another and it took me a few seconds to realise it was me. I was making a strangled noise, a wail trapped in my throat. I placed my hand above her pale face as someone moved behind me but I ignored them. A tiny rivet of blood was running from her nose and I laid my hand against her cheek gently with a sob.

The instant my fingers touched her skin I remembered. Like a flood I was beset with memories and feelings that were not mine. I saw Snow White and Prince Charming with a baby, a baby that they called Emma. Me. I saw myself as a baby being placed into a strange wardrobe with a small boy who would grow up to become August. I saw the man who made the wardrobe. I saw the blue fairy that made it possible. On and on I saw every inhabitant of Storybrooke for who they really were. I saw the truth and I believed.

I was struck dumb with this revelation but the sudden wail of sirens pulled me back to Earth. I knew the truth about Snow, _my mother_, who was still lying prone on the road. Suddenly believing did not change anything, no miracles happened. She was still lying there and I could do nothing. I felt someone touching my shoulder and I looked up to see Jefferson. He swayed on his feet and the sun behind his head wavered back and forth into view. I stared until a dark blankness crowded my vision and I knew no more.

* * *

I had fainted from exhaustion and a mild case of hypothermia. They placed me in the same small ward as Snow and Jefferson. When I woke the sun was sinking. I had slept for hours and I sat up with a spike of dread. Someone moved on my right and I saw Henry sitting beside the bed. He had the storybook in his hands and he was gripping it so hard his knuckles were white. When he saw that I was awake he stood and the book fell to the floor.

"Emma! I thought you'd never wake up!" He leaned over and wrapped his arms around my neck. I squeezed his arm gently and then looked into his face.

"Mary Margaret. How is she?"

"She's fine!" He said quickly and I sunk back into the pillow with a sigh. "The doctor said she had a very, very mild haemorrhage but she'll be okay."

"Where is she?"

"She's having tests."

"She's okay, she's okay," I whispered to myself and Henry stared at me, head cocked to the side and I smiled at him. It had only been a few days but I had missed his wonderful face.

"Where the heck have you been?" His voice sounded strained but I could only guess how worried he must have been. I reached over for his hand and took it.

"It's a long, strange story kid."

He frowned, "But you left, you didn't even say goodbye," he chewed the inside of his cheek and I moved as far as could over to him. I looked into his eyes.

"I would never leave you and I definitely wouldn't leave without saying goodbye."

"You didn't leave? Then you were in that guy's house the whole time? Is he your boyfriend?" He pointed to a bed next to us hidden by a curtain and I looked at it quickly.

"No!" I said, a little too loudly. I looked at the curtain and if Jefferson was awake behind it I could imagine him smirking. I calmed down and looked back at Henry. "I didn't leave, I _was_ at his house and no we're not dating. The man is…" I waved my hand vaguely at my head. "I'll tell you everything Henry but not just yet. I think you've been through enough for this week and I'm really tired. Just know that I'm fine and I'm not going anywhere."

He nodded and ducked down to retrieve his book out I think it was really to hide the tears in his eyes. I smiled at him and as he rose back up I gently brushed his hair back. He blinked at me, not because he was surprised at the touch but because it was me doing it. I smiled at him secretively before looking down at the book in his hands.

"What is it?" He asked and I looked up.

"I have something to tell you. Don't freak out."

Henry listened and when I told him that I remembered he screamed so loudly that a nurse came running into the ward to see who had died. She found us hugging and laughing and left without a word.

* * *

I wanted to stay awake until Snow came back, calling her mom was a little too weird at that point, but I fell asleep. When I woke the ward was dark and Snow was asleep. I sat up and tried to get out of bed but when I stood up I sat right back down again. I couldn't even stand let alone make it across the room. As I tried to stand again someone called my name and I realised that Snow had a visitor. David walked over to me and I sat weakly. Over the last few months I had spoken to David a handful of times but we had never really hit it off. We certainly hadn't formed a relationship like the one me and Mary Margaret had. She was my friend, my best friend but the man coming towards me was not some passing acquaintance now. He was my dad. He had almost died getting me to safety. He was _Prince Charming_ so you'll excuse the mess that followed.

"Emma? How are you feeling?"

I stared open-mouthed at him and I searched over his features like I had never really seen them before. We looked alike. For months people had honestly asked if me and Snow were sisters but the similarity had just been a funny fluke. I wondered then if the three of us together would get even more strange looks. He frowned slightly and I looked away, face red.

"Fine. I'm fine. Thanks." I sounded like an idiot. I forced myself to look at him and he inclined his head.

"Glad to hear it. It's a strange coincidence," he said, turning to look back at Snow. "They said Mary Margaret will make a full recovery. I didn't even know she was going…" He looked back at me and I nodded and pretended that I hadn't been staring. He smiled at me again, wishing me goodnight and before I could stop myself I reached out and grabbed his hand. He stared at me in surprise which quickly shifted into embarrassment.

I don't know, maybe I thought if I touched him he would remember who I was but he stared at me in blank confusion before asking if I was feeling okay. He must have thought I was crazy. I let go of his hand, shaking my head.

"Sorry, I — I'm fine. Sorry…" I turned from him and he left the ward after checking on Snow one last time. I sat on the bed, facing the wall and tried to keep control but my emotions threatened to drown me. For years I had dreamed of finding my parents. In some we lived happily ever after and in others they reject me. Not once did I imagine them having no idea who I was. I held back tears and suddenly I thought of Jefferson, remembering the sorrow that accompanied him everywhere and in that moment I needed to see him. He understood the pain of loving someone who had no idea who you really were. I had to speak to him. Blame it on exhaustion or hypothermia but I shuffled over to his bed and drew the curtain aside.

The bed was empty. He was gone.

* * *

**_a.n:_**

_The next and final chapter will switch back to Jefferson's point of view._


	7. Chapter 7

I watched her coming and after a few minutes of frantic worry I sat at the piano and started to play. Maybe I wanted to impress her, I don't know but playing the melody calmed me enough not to panic. I didn't know what state of mind Emma would be in once she walked through the door. She could arrest me, which was in her right or, even worse, tell me not to speak to her again.

My fingers faulted on the keys and I balled my hands up. No she would do neither of those things. A week had passed, more then enough time for her to throw me in jail or cut all ties. She was coming for another reason but I couldn't discern what. Trying to remain calm I continued playing until I heard her car pulling into the driveway. I listened to her walk up to the porch and then knock on the open front door. She called my name but I said nothing. I let the piano do it for me. After several seconds she poked her head around the door and then walked into the room. She stood there and said nothing, just listened to me play. The longer I played the less her expression of incredulity grew until she was smiling at me in bemusement.

"What is that? You're good," she admitted grudgingly.

"Thanks, I've had years to practise. It's from another world." Like many things inspiration bleeds through to every realm. It had elements of Swan Lake to it, a swan theme which she did not miss.

"Sure, another world with Tchaikovsky…" she deadpanned and looked around the room as I finished playing. It was the same room I had gagged and bound her in and judging from the look on her face she was remembering that vividly.

"Do you want to talk somewhere else?"

"No, it doesn't matter." She stared at me and I finally let myself gaze at her. She was pale but not as sick as before. I had watched her through my telescope and like me she had spent most of the past week recovering in bed. I cocked my head at her in consideration. Maybe she did want to arrest me but just didn't have the strength to do so until now.

"Is there a cell with my name on it sheriff?"

"I'm still thinking about it," she said and stared at me strangely. She looked confused and, oddly, intrigued. I smiled faintly at her and she dropped her gaze and turned to look at some books. I began playing again to fill the tension.

"Why are you here Emma?"

"You left the hospital without telling anyone. You were sicker then I was so…" she let her explanation trail off and I narrowed my eyes at her, trying not to smile but truthfully I felt the start of some small elation bubbling inside me.

"You came to check if I was okay?" I asked but she shrugged and looked at the fire in the fireplace.

"I wanted to know why you left. You could have made your condition even worse."

I nodded, "I could but as you can see I'm on the mend." I stood up and Emma straightened and faced me. "I left for three reasons," I said and remained behind the piano, I didn't trust myself without something between us. "First reason was because I didn't want to find out what your friends and family would do to me once you told them…which you haven't otherwise I'd probably be dead," I paused and stared at her but she remained stubbornly silent. I shrugged and continued. "Second reason is because there's an asylum underneath the hospital."

Emma's eyebrows arched and she smirked at me. "Scared of a mad house?"

"No, scared of the woman who runs said mad house. She's the Queen of Hearts," I said it quietly and she leaned forward to hear and then she blanched. She didn't laugh in disbelief or mock me. She looked concerned.

"Okay I can see why you'd want to get away from there. You said there were three reasons."

"Right," I said, eager to change the topic. I moved away from the piano and past her towards a hatbox sitting on the sofa. I picked it up and presented it to Emma. She smiled. Actually it was more like a grimace but it was something. She took the box from me and shook it gently.

"I think I can guess what's in here."

"I was going to send it to you when I was well enough to leave the house. It took me longer then normal to make but there's your hat." I had been incredibly weak when I collected the hat block from Geppetto and the old man had been so concerned that he drove me back home. But I had managed to make it.

Emma took the Stetson from the box and stared at it in bemusement and then to my great surprise actually put it on. She flicked her fingers along the brim and set the hat at a crooked angle on her head. The hat could have looked ludicrous but she managed to pull it off. She stared at herself in the mirror and a flash of pleased delight passed over her face.

"If only this was Texas…"

"It suits you," I moved over to her, unable to keep that distance any longer and she removed the hat and placed it gently back into its box. She straightened and her gaze was not frightened or hostile but again curious. My eyes roved over her face, trying to work out what had changed. Emma opened her mouth to speak but hesitated. She pressed her lips together tight and I could see the frustration in her eyes. The tension was becoming unbearable and I needed to diverge it.

"How is Mary Margaret?" I blurted out. If I expected this to diffuse the air I was wrong. I knew that Mary Margaret was fine and back living with Emma but she stared at me and tears suddenly sprung up in her eyes.

"She — she's fine," she whispered and her chin wobbled and she turned from me, biting her lip.

"Is something wrong?"

She laughed and turned back to me and her eyes were fierce. "You were right."

"About what?"

"Everything," she approached me and then uttered something softly, so soft I couldn't hear.

"What?"

"I said I believe you."

I blinked at her, ready to call her bluff but the look in her eyes made me pause. She looked miserable. Before she had fooled me into believing she was on my side because she wanted to escape. What reason did she have to lie? As revenge for what had happened? I couldn't believe that but I couldn't be hurt for the second time.

"Believe me about what?"

"About Grace and Wonderland and the Curse and — and everything. I know who everyone really is. That old lady who lives at the end of this street is really Mother Hubbard and Ruby is really Little Red Riding Hood and Mary — Mary is…" she rambled and then could not continue, her eyes wide and full of tears. I took hold of her arms and gazed deeply at her, hardly able to believe what she was saying. I felt like I was about to burst from joy.

"You believe me? You believe in magic?"

"Yes."

I couldn't control myself. For so long I had no hope, no chance of being happy and all my hopes were riding on Emma to believe. I thought I had to convince her, that I would make her believe no matter what it took but she had come to me of her own free will to confess. I laughed and pulled her into my arms, completely overjoyed. She stiffened in my embrace but after awhile she relaxed. I held her tight and she settled her hands on my shoulders gently but then she gripped at my shirt and her chest started to heave against mine. I rubbed her back, face in her hair and for the first time in countless years I felt content. I pulled back, my arms still around her and looked down at her tear streaked face.

"They don't know…they don't know who I really am," she said gutturally and the smile on my face fell. She was in pain, a pain I knew well. "I — I never had parents, never had anyone who loved or wanted me but Mary Margaret…" she gulped, "she was my family before I even knew but now I can't tell her. I see her and David — who's really Prince Charming, which I'm still trying to get my head around — and I have to stop myself from breaking down in front of them. I don't…I don't know what to do."

She finished, sniffing and gulping and I nodded in understanding. I pulled her back to me and she came with no resistance. It had been so long since I held someone and for her to actually respond in kind, no matter how weakly, was overwhelming.

"I know it's hard. Once I was able to leave the house the first thing I did was go to Grace. I wanted to tell her so much, I wanted her to just know, instantly. Take one look at me and know that I was her father. But she doesn't remember and I don't want to scare her…"

Emma nodded against my shoulder, "Even if I did tell them they have no reason to believe. We're all the same age and god," she pulled away to look at me, "I don't know what to do."

I smiled at her and without thinking brushed the tears away from her face. "You do what I've been saying for days: break the curse."

"But how? I believe in the curse but I don't have magic."

"Are you sure?"

She blinked, considered it and then quickly dismissed it. "I would know. I don't feel powerful."

"Maybe you're not meant to feel it because it's always been there…" I gazed at her hopefully but she still couldn't accept that she was special. I grazed the back of my fingers against her cheek as I tucked her hair behind her ear. "You know that any curse, no matter how powerful, can be broken by true love's kiss?"

Her eyes flicked to my lips and then back up into my eyes. Time spooled out, strung between us and I leaned down towards her mouth. Her eyes closed, I could feel her eyelashes against my cheek but my lips grazed against the corner of her mouth as she turned away and pulled herself out of my arms.

"Woah," she said and held out her arm. "If true love's kiss can break a curse then we're out of luck Jeff. I'm not doing that with you."

Her rejection, though warranted and expected, hurt but I smiled and took a step back, "I'm sorry. I don't believe us kissing will break the curse I just…I'm sorry," I moved towards the hatbox, creating some needed space between us. She had turned her face away at the last moment but I had seen the way she looked at me. It shouldn't be possible but I think for a second she considered it. Me. I know that sounds ludicrous but I felt that there was something between us and if there's one thing that's obvious about me by now it's that I don't give up. There were issues to deal with before I could even call her my friend let alone anything else but I would do everything in my power to show Emma that I was someone worth counting on. I just had to prove it to her.

I lifted the hat and showed it to her and she became wary, eyes flicking to the open door. I felt a pang of disappointment. She had told me that she believed, came alone to tell me but she still didn't trust me. I didn't begrudge her it, she had every reason not to but I desperately needed her to take a chance on me.

"Here, this is yours," I put the hat back in the box and held it out but she remained still, eyeing the box and me swiftly.

"Do you want me to make it work? Because I don't know if I can…Although, maybe…" she looked at the case, her mistrust turning into something wondering.

"No," I said firmly and she looked at me in surprise, "I'm not giving it to you because I want you to make it work. I'll never ask you to do that again or expect you to. It's a gift, that's all."

She stared at me and I don't think she knew what to believe. Finally she came forward slowly and took the box, staring at me thoughtfully. "I knew if I came here that you might force me to stay and I'm probably an idiot on top of being insane for coming here…but I had to tell you that I believed. The torment you endured is real, you're separated from your daughter, she doesn't know and I just felt…I just wanted you to know."

She was very uncomfortable saying it but I think knowing the truth about herself and the town had pulled away a layer of shielding that she carried over herself. I smiled at her and she smiled back openly, like the first time we had met. But only a piece of that armour had been removed, the rest was still rusted into place. She blinked and then moved back, as if she just realised where she was.

"What am I doing? Look I just came to say that I believed you, that's it. I'm going now," she walked to the door, the hat box swinging next to her knee. I followed her out. I couldn't let her leave without apologising, though I knew words wouldn't change what I had done.

"I'm sorry Emma, for everything. I know I need to make amends and I'm prepared to. I want to. I went too far and that's not the kind of person I want to be, certainly not someone I want to be around Grace. I'm not sure what I can do to gain your trust, if I even can, but I want you to know that it means everything that you came back to tell me. You were right that I was inflicting my past experiences onto you and I'm so sorry for that. I just couldn't see any other way."

"And now?" She asked softly, turning to me on the steps.

"Like I said that hat is just a gift. Wear it, shred it, it's up to you. I'll have to find another way to get back to Grace…" It killed me to say it because I knew there was no other way. I thought if Emma believed she would make the hat work but that obviously didn't happen. She needed to break the curse. From the look on her face she knew this to.

"I'm going to do everything I can to break the curse."

"Have you tried kissing your son? It's worth a shot."

Emma smiled, "I've covered that kid's face in a hundred kisses…but I guess one more can't hurt," she looked towards her car and then back at me. She eyed me up and down before staring intently into my eyes. "If I can do it I will but you need to face the prospect that we'll probably be amongst a few who knows the truth and always will. I don't know about you but I'm not going to let some stupid curse stop me being with my family, even if they don't know who I am."

"You think I should speak to Grace?"

"You can either keep watching her from a distance, see her grow up without you or you can try to be a part of her life. If you don't you risk never being her father again. Basically stop wasting your damn time being weird and go talk to her."

"Yes ma'am. If you ever need someone to talk to you know where I am...or put on the hat and I'll come." I smiled and she walked down the drive to her car, saying nothing but she didn't seem too put off by the suggestion. I walked to the bottom of the porch and watched her get in and drive away. In the distance the clock tower struck noon, the time when Grace and her parents go shopping on a weekend. It wouldn't seem odd to strike up a conversation with them at the cashier, I knew the people she was staying with, they used to be my friends. There was a tailor in town, maybe I could even get a job...

As the sound of Emma's car faded away I walked from my house and into town with a smile on my face. Emma was right, I needed to stop wasting my time waiting for something to fix my life and start changing it myself. It would be difficult and might end in disaster but it's better then watching my daughter and the woman I had fallen in love with living their lives without me. Like I told Emma everyone in this world expects a magical solution to their problems and while I believe in magic I needed to stop relying on it to give me a happy ending and work towards it myself.

* * *

**_a.n:_**

_The end! I like to imagine that Jefferson makes good on his promise and starts to be more proactive in a positive way and Emma slowly starts to trust him._

_Thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing, I'm super pleased people have enjoyed it and told me :)_


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